what do you dream?

Jul 3

Dear Reader,

There is a question that waits patiently within each of us, often buried beneath years of expectation, responsibility, and self-protection: What do you dream?

We’re not speaking here of what you hope to accomplish, or what others admire in you, or even the life you think you’re supposed to want. This question points somewhere more tender. It leads to the inner terrain that is yours alone. The place where longing begins before language. The quiet sense that something more is possible, even if you cannot yet name it.

To dream is to remember that we are not finished. It is to remain open to mystery, to possibility, to transformation. Dreams are not always tidy or convenient. They do not follow schedules. They resist linear thinking. Sometimes they come in fragments, shimmering like light on water. Sometimes they arrive as a steady ache, a quiet knowing that more is waiting, even if we don’t yet understand what it is.

Still, we often resist them. We tuck our dreams away, afraid of disappointment, failure, or of appearing foolish. But what if it’s not the risk of chasing a dream that costs us, but the slow, quiet ache of burying it? What if our dreams are not burdens to manage, but maps to honor?

Let the question linger with you this week. Let it open a window to the inner landscape you may have forgotten. And when your dream begins to speak, however softly, listen.

It may be the truest part of you calling you home.

Yours in the journey,